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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703342">this is the best part</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespacenico/pseuds/thespacenico'>thespacenico</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>klancemas 2018 [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining Lance (Voltron), Pre-Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:02:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespacenico/pseuds/thespacenico</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>klancemas retold (from lance's point of view)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allura &amp; Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance &amp; Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>klancemas 2018 [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1198069</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>216</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. chapter one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>welcome back to KLANCEMAS (in june!!!) </p><p>for those who didn't hear, this past december i put together a klancemas zine! all of the proceeds went to <a href="https://www.therainbowcardsproject.org/">the rainbow cards project</a>, a nonprofit that sends holiday and birthday cards to LGBTQ+ people around the world who have been cast out by their families. it was a super great experience and i'm so thankful to all the artists who participated, and especially to my friends who encouraged me to go through with it in the first place! </p><p>in the zine, i included seven brand new chapters that take place during the original klancemas series, this time from lance's point of view. now that zines have all been sent out and the donation is made, i can finally post them here on ao3! so if you ever wondered exactly what lance was doing behind the scenes, now you'll finally know!</p><p>i'm posting this first chapter a day later than i intended, but after this i'll be updating every friday :) hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lance is the first to arrive at the Garrison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the last day of November, and even though the first official day of winter isn’t until </span>
  <em>
    <span>well </span>
  </em>
  <span>into December, he still finds himself shivering and hunching underneath the collar of his jacket. Objectively, it’s really not that cold; although, considering that just yesterday he was exploring the shoreline behind his childhood home in Cuba, wearing nothing but shorts and a tank top in picture-perfect seventy-five degree weather, he’d like to think his discomfort is somewhat justified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s sitting in one of the Garrison’s common rooms, people-watching from where he’s tucked away on one of the couches in the corner to pass the time. His knee bounces restlessly up and down, eyes darting around the room as cadets and officers alike walk in and out of the halls, some alone, others chatting with each other over the various files or documents in their hands. A small group of cadets is gathered around the glowing screen near the entrance, talking excitedly over one another as they wait for what Lance assumes is their most recent flight simulation scores. He can’t help but smile at them, allowing himself for a moment to remember what that felt like: the quiet anticipation, the buzzing nervousness in his chest that had always made him giddy and restless during his days as a cadet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still feels strange sometimes, walking through the halls of the Garrison and hailed as a hero by nearly everyone who sees him. He never even graduated from the program, much less had the time to actually climb the ranks and finally prove himself like he’d always wanted to. He supposes that piloting two entirely different, incredibly advanced alien robot lions and taking down an entire Empire in order to end a ten-thousand-plus-years intergalactic war makes up for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s contemplating whether or not he has time to sneak into the simulator for a quick trial run, just to see how far he’s progressed since the last time he totally wrecked it, when he’s pulled out of his thoughts by the faint buzzing in his pocket. Veronica’s contact picture flashes on the screen of his handheld when he slips it out of his pocket: the two of their faces squished together, Veronica’s glasses skewed across her nose, both of them making the ugliest possible faces they could muster. Lance takes a moment to appreciate it before answering the call. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I still can’t believe you’re ditching us,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>present-day Veronica says the moment that her face pops up onto the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance snorts, earning a strange look from a passing officer that he dutifully ignores. “Did you really call just to tell me that for the billionth time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“For the entire month of December!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she continues, her image blurring slightly as she gets up into the camera. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You can’t even just, go for a couple of weeks and then come back for Christmas?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vero, I’ve told you a thousand times—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“For Christmas! With your </span>
  </em>
  <span>family.” Lance resists the urge to roll his eyes at her emphasis on the last word. As much as he understands where she’s coming from, he’s not about to let her change his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back and settles himself against the couch cushions, tapping his finger against the back of his handheld. “The team’s my family too, Veronica.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica scoffs lightly, not unkindly but with a clear undertone of frustration. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright, I get it, forever bonded by magical Lion quintessence, or whatever.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… not exactly what I meant—” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I said or whatever!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance sighs, as long and loud and heavy as he is physically able. “You’re only upset because you know you’ll miss me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks innocently at the screen and does his best to hold back a smile, fully expecting Veronica to vehemently deny it, or quip back with something about how they’ll crop him out of all the old family Christmas photos. Instead she goes silent, lips pressing into a thin line and eyes narrowing slightly. Lance blinks twice, once in surprise, once in realization as his mouth slowly stretches into a smug, pleased grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awww, Vee—” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, absolutely not, you don’t have the upper hand in this conversation—Rachel’s still mad at you too, you know!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you guys both miss me,” Lance sing-songs, laughing at the utter exasperation that flashes across Veronica’s face. “I haven’t even been gone for a day and you already miss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica mutters something underneath her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose underneath her glasses. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine, you win. Of course we’re going to miss you, Leandro.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable,” Lance hums, tucking a hand behind his head and cracking a grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica considers him for a moment, eyeing him over the rims of her glasses. Lance manages not to tell her that she looks like a stern librarian. Then the very corner of her mouth tilts up into something that looks suspiciously like a smirk, and Lance narrows his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles quietly to herself, and Lance is about to ask exactly what’s so funny when she says: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I bet the only reason you’re going on this trip is because of Keith.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica!” Lance squeaks, heat instantly rising to his cheeks as she barks out a laugh and he scrambles to turn down the volume on his handheld, glancing around his immediate surroundings to make sure no one heard. “Keep it down, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I knew it!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she crows, covering her mouth with her free hand to muffle her laughter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s exactly why you’re going, isn’t it?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mamá told me I should!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mhm, sure. Stop avoiding the question, Lance.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance flounders, searching desperately for some escape from their current conversation and ultimately finding none. He opens his mouth, faltering when Veronica raises an eyebrow expectantly. “That… fine, so that might have been one of the deciding factors, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wooow—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you wouldn’t do the exact same thing in my position!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s just—” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance rolls his eyes as Veronica stifles another bout of laughter behind her hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re really ditching us to go get a boyfriend.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s gaze flicks back to the screen, glaring, and then drops down to the floor just as quickly with a quiet huff. “That’s assuming it’d ever be mutual,” he mumbles, pulling one leg up and dropping his chin onto his knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica’s end goes silent, and for a moment all Lance hears is the usual sound of boots squeaking against tile as people walk through the halls, and doors to classrooms and offices sliding open and closed. He almost forgets that he’s on the phone entirely, and is only kept from slipping away into his thoughts by Veronica’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is it… not?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she asks carefully, sounding genuinely confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica is quiet again, processing. Lance chews on his lip and keeps his eyes on the ground, unwilling to look up and let her see the resigned disappointment that’s probably written all over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess I just kind of assumed,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she continues finally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean, you guys are so close, I thought—don’t you guys call almost every day?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance sighs, shoulders slumping. “When he’s not busy,” he allows, picking at the hem of his jeans. “But I’m usually the one actually doing the calling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica hums in acknowledgment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe. But he answers every time, doesn’t he?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Lance agrees reluctantly. “I guess so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another short pause, except for the shuffling noises of Veronica shifting a bit onscreen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, look at the bright side. Now you’ve got a whole month with him to figure it out.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance feels his mouth involuntarily twitch up into a small smile, lifting his gaze to see her smiling back at him. “Oh, so now you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>for </span>
  </em>
  <span>this whole thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica waves him away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t like your face when it looks sad. Sue me.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They both dissolve into chuckles, Veronica’s smiling image blurring a little as the camera shakes and he covers his mouth to stifle his own laughter. A bittersweet feeling wells up in his chest, a bit wistful and overwhelmingly fond, as he watches Veronica settle again, readjusting her glasses and pushing her hair over her shoulder only for it to fall right back into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really gonna miss you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Veronica answers, without missing a beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance smiles, shaking his head a little at the light, teasing tone in her voice. Some movement from the far entrance of the common room catches his eye and he glances up, immediately straightening at the sight of two achingly familiar faces. “Hey, Vee, I gotta—” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, I know.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance looks back at his handheld to see Veronica smiling at him through the screen. She presses two fingers to her forehead in a mock salute.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “See you later, hermanito. You better at least call us on Christmas.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And… try not to worry too much about the other thing, yeah? Things will work themselves out.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance nearly laughs at the irony of her statement, but instead he smiles again, and drops his other leg back down to the floor. “I’ll try.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winks, and then the call disconnects with a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>ping, </span>
  </em>
  <span>leaving Lance staring at his own reflection in the darkened screen of his handheld. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head snaps up at the sound of someone calling his name, his mouth instantly stretching into a grin as he pushes himself to his feet. Hunk and Pidge are already heading his way, faces brightening when he spots them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, guys!” He moves forward to meet them in the middle, jogging a few paces to make up for his late start. “It’s so good to—” His sentence is cut off by a breathless </span>
  <em>
    <span>oomph, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as the approximation of a five foot dwarf suddenly plows into his stomach, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. “—see you,” he finishes slowly, more like a question than a statement. He blinks down at Pidge as she pulls away, grinning up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunk said I had to give you my hug first because his is gonna take a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But—” Lance gapes at her. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>hugged </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. Pidge, showing friendly physical affection—Hunk, did you get that on camera?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge’s expression quickly morphs into a scowl and she pulls back another step. “Alright—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you, you little gremlin!” Lance teases, dragging her back in and squishing her against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Laaance,” Pidge groans, although the hint of amusement that bleeds through her exasperation is enough to keep Lance from letting go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Pidge got two hugs, now it’s my turn,” Hunk interrupts impatiently, shuffling his feet behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance obligingly releases Pidge and laughs as Hunk immediately scoops him up, squeezing so hard Lance loses his breath for a second. “Hey, buddy,” he wheezes, patting his back. “Missed you too.” Hunk squeezes him again in response, and still has yet to let go when Lance’s eyes drift over his shoulder and land on another familiar face, looking rather lost and confused. Lance perks up instantly, planting his hands on Hunk’s shoulders to push himself up into full view. “Allura!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura’s head snaps toward him, her face breaking out into a warm smile the moment she spots him. Lance almost didn’t recognize her at first—now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember ever seeing her in anything other than gowns and space uniforms and paladin armor, so the sweater and jeans are new. Even her hair is braided down her back instead of pulled up into a bun; the only dead giveaway would be her ears, which Lance himself has grown rather accustomed to.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins as she offers a small wave of excitement and starts in their direction, and before he knows it Hunk is setting him down but only so the three of them can pull Allura into a big group hug, limbs tangled and cheeks squished together and laughing as they try to keep their balance. Lance figures they must look crazy to anyone passing by, but the overwhelming warmth in his chest makes it too hard for him to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura sighs contentedly as they all separate, hands still resting on Hunk’s and Lance’s shoulders. “Goodness, you all haven’t changed a bit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should hope not,” Hunk chuckles. “It’s only been, like, a month since we last saw each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grew half an inch,” Pidge objects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice, pipsqueak,” Lance allows, patting her on the head and snorting when Pidge sticks her tongue out at him. He glances up and around as she swats his hand away and reaches up to smooth her hair out. “Hey, where’s Keith? I thought he was coming with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores the way that Hunk squints at him. Allura looks up, blinking. “Hm? Oh, right, he’s—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An awful thought suddenly strikes Lance, something ice cold and panicky dropping into the pit of his stomach. “Wait, he didn’t ditch, did he?” he interrupts, before he can stop himself. He leans to the side to search the room over Allura’s shoulder, just in time to miss the way that she smiles at him, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I swear, if he ditched I’m gonna—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna what?” Keith asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Lance huffs, waving a hand in his general direction. “I’m getting to that, mullet, if you’d just let me finish—” He abruptly cuts himself off, blinking, and then wheels around to find Keith standing just behind him, mouth quirked up into an amused half-smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith!” Lance squawks, launching forward to throw his arms around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith makes a soft noise of surprise in the back of his throat, stumbling back a couple steps but managing to steady the both of them just in time. His hands hover awkwardly at their sides for a moment before he returns the hug, cautiously wrapping his arms around Lance’s back. “Um. Hi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance detaches himself and pulls back so that his hands still rest on Keith’s shoulders, taking a moment to fully appreciate the sight of him. “Dude, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith makes a face. “We talked yesterday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intergalactic Skype doesn’t count, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop calling me dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, dude. Whatever you say, dude.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop </span>
  </em>
  <span>it,” Keith huffs, a small breath of a laugh as he shoves at Lance’s shoulder, shaking his head. Lance is already grinning, so totally caught up in the moment and in the satisfaction that he finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>gets to see Keith again after nearly a month of nothing but phone calls and video chats, that it takes him a while to notice that the others are staring at them, each with varying degrees of </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>knowing looks on their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance clears his throat and quickly steps back in one smooth motion, arms dropping back down to his sides. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Anyway, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so—uh, I guess we should go ahead and get going, right? It’s kind of a long drive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge, incredibly, lets Lance’s subject change slide, groaning and slumping her shoulders. “Why are we even driving again? We could take one of the Lions and easily be there in just a few minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Nonono,” Lance animatedly waves his hands in front of him, ignoring Pidge’s long-suffering sigh. “Guys, it’s about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>experience. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Team road trip!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith and Pidge glance at each other, neither of them looking particularly enthusiastic. The only one who looks even remotely excited is Allura, bouncing up and down on her toes. “I think it sounds like a lovely experience,” she offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Lovely’ isn’t the word I would use,” Keith mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk claps his hands together. “Then it’s settled. I’m driving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet! Let’s go.” Lance moves to head back toward the entrance of the Garrison, only to falter when Hunk gives him a funny look. “…What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Hunk says quickly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Just. Normally you’d have called shotgun by now. Like you always do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blinks as everyone turns to look at him, the combined weight of their gazes making his face burn for some reason. “Oh. Well—” He scrambles for some sort of explanation, realizing belatedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what Hunk is getting at and not appreciating it one bit. “Maybe, I just assumed that Allura would get shotgun! Because, you know. She’s a princess, and all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Front seat,” Pidge clarifies in response to the bewildered look that Allura shoots her way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t we just figure it out when we get to the car?” Keith asks impatiently, and thankfully obliviously. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Great </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea, Keith,” Lance agrees, patting his back and pushing him forward, narrowing his eyes at Hunk as they pass by. “Let’s get this show on the road.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time everyone’s things are stuffed into the trunk of Hunk’s car, Lance ends up in the backseat sandwiched between Keith and Pidge, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hadn’t planned it that way but who’s complaining? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t even try,” Pidge had whispered loudly back at him when she darted past him to claim the first window seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only reason that Lance had taken the middle seat after that was so Keith wouldn’t have to, because he knows him well enough to know he’d rather walk than be trapped between two others. He’s a thoughtful person, he’d do that for anyone, okay? Call him a gentleman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, he may have passed up shotgun, but he snags the aux cord the first chance he gets, and Allura is the only one who doesn’t spend the entire first hour complaining about his music selection. Lance is almost grateful for the distraction; it keeps him from thinking too much about where his and Keith’s knees are touching, and the way Keith doesn’t pull away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge busts out the snacks during hour two, and Lance passes Keith the package of Combos that he picked out specifically for him without even thinking about it, while he’s busy rummaging through their selection for a snack of his own. Allura eats half her bag of sour gummy worms before passing them back to Lance, who shares the rest with Keith because he’s nice like that and doesn’t take offense when Keith points out that he just finished an entire pack of Sour Skittles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By hour three, the noise dies down and people start falling asleep. Lance doesn’t think she means to, but Pidge eventually tips over onto his shoulder after a minute or two of attempting to fight off sleep. Allura follows soon after, curled up against the passenger seat window with her arm tucked underneath her head. Lance is nice enough to take out the aux cord and put in headphones instead, and manages to summon enough courage to offer one to Keith, who shrugs and accepts it without question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So for the next half hour, all that Lance can focus on is the feeling of Keith’s arm pressed up against his, which is really inevitable for any pair that’s trying to share headphones but still makes a thousand different scenarios run through his head, where in an ideal situation he’d have his arm around Keith, and Keith’s head would be on his shoulder, and yes he really needs to get his thoughts under control or he’s going to combust before they even make it to their destination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he’s spending half his energy trying to remain casual, it’s all very… normal. He hasn’t even realized until now just how strange it feels to be packed into a car on the interstate with four of his closest friends, traveling to a cabin somewhere in the mountains to spend the holidays with them, doing nothing but playing games and drinking hot chocolate and sharing their lives with each other. Not to mention that his attention is and will be typically fully fixated on the boy that he likes, which in retrospect isn’t much of a change at all except for the lack of denial. There’s no mission or objective, no reason for all of them to be together except that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d become so used to war that he almost forgot what it’s like to be a kid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he gets a little too lost in his thoughts, because he’s startled out of them by his headphone being yanked out of his ear. He snaps his head toward Keith, ready to complain, only to find that Keith is already watching him, frowning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” He speaks quietly, enough that he won’t wake anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blinks. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were doing that thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—what thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith tugs his own headphone out of his ear and lets it fall into his lap. “The thing where your eyes kind of glaze over and you look like you’re staring into the void.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The void—? Keith, what—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kind of creepy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And where you chew on the inside of your cheek.” Keith waves a hand around his own face. “You can see, like, your whole jaw moving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance wonders vaguely how many times he’s done exactly that during the many video chats during which he’d considered confessing. And then he wonders how many times Keith had noticed it, and why he bothered to notice at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith must not know how to interpret Lance’s silence, because the small, teasing smile on his face slips away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—I’m not making fun of you, I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonono, it’s okay,” Lance interrupts, waving a hand at him. “I guess I just—I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s brow furrows slightly, and he seems to consider him for a moment before shifting back to lean against the window, folding his arms over his chest. “I mean, you make it kind of hard not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t mean it as an insult, or even necessarily as a compliment, Lance </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he doesn’t; knowing Keith, he means it more as a simple observation but holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>crow—</span>
  </em>
  <span>how in the world could he not realize exactly how that sounded? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. Thanks,” Lance chokes out, unsure of what else to say without melting into a puddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith frowns again. “What’s wrong?” he repeats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s wrong, I was just… thinking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith pulls his leg up onto the seat and settles further back against the window, an apparent invitation for Lance to continue. So he does, gathering his headphones back into his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This whole thing just feels—like, this is the sort of thing I always loved to do with my friends way back when. Going on road trips and eating junk food and talking about not space-related things.” Keith snorts a little at that, and Lance shoots a small smile his way before looking down at his hands. “Then we got thrown into the middle of an ongoing intergalactic war, and there was never really any time for that kind of stuff, you know? And after spending so long with you guys in such a different context, it feels… weird. A good weird, but—” He huffs a small, embarrassed laugh, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Hard to explain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can still feel Keith’s gaze on him as he falls silent, tugging restlessly at the bracelet around his wrist. Another nervous habit he should probably be more mindful of, considering that Keith is evidently much more observant than Lance has ever really given him credit for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I’ve never really thought about it,” Keith offers eventually. He’s turned away to face the window when Lance looks up at him, gaze fixed on a sign or a car outside before it passes and he has to refocus on something new. “I never really had any friends to do this kind of thing with in the first place. Before, um.” He hesitates briefly and then glances back at Lance, voice going a bit quiet like he’s sharing some kind of secret. “Before you guys.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>About a year ago, Lance might have laughed at him a little, or teased him for being such a softie. Now he just smiles, and settles against the back of his seat the best he can without disturbing Pidge beside him. “Well then, this should be a good first experience. I was kind of worried you were gonna cancel on us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Keith shrugs, looking down and kicking at something in the floor of the car. “Shiro would’ve murdered me if I did. Assuming Adam didn’t get to me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith rolls his eyes, but from the way the corner of his mouth twitches upward, Lance can tell that he doesn’t really mean it. “Or you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance has never quite understood why anyone would describe someone’s smile as soft, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>god. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s what Keith’s is, when their eyes meet again and he smiles back, because Lance is already smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And call him a hopeless romantic, but… that’s exactly how he feels, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s exactly how he feels hours later when they’ve made it to the cabin, and he watches Keith get smothered by both Adam and Shiro right on the front doorstep. It’s how he feels while he’s tickling Keith into his mattress, grinning so hard he feels like his face might split in two even after he gets kneed in the chin. It’s how he feels when he sees the look on Keith’s face when he sees snow for the first time in his life, and it’s how he feels while he watches him leave a trail of footprints across the yard and smile up at him after he’s purposely fallen onto the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soft,” Keith says about the snow, as if he’s been reading Lance’s mind all along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Keith throws it in his face. Lance is pretty sure there’s a metaphor in there somewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m gonna tell him,” Lance tells Allura out of the blue, as they lean against the porch and watch Shiro tackle Keith into the snow for what has to be the dozenth time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura doesn’t question him. She keeps quiet and lets him process, lets him smile when Keith shoves a handful of snow down the back of Shiro’s coat and laugh when Shiro does it right back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tonight, I think.” he continues eventually. Hesitates. “Maybe. I’m not sure, but—I want to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura just hums. “I know,” is what she doesn’t have to say. It’s not a secret, no matter how much Lance wishes it was. He wants he wants he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but of course the only one who’s too dense to see it is the same person Lance wants to see it. Then again, if you want something done, you’ve gotta do it yourself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Lance does—almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had it all planned out, all the way down to the very last detail. It was past two in the morning, and snow was falling, and Keith was standing right next to him and watching it fall. All he had to do was suck it up and tell him. But Keith always did have a habit of throwing off Lance’s plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because then Lance had looked at him, and at his face illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light above them, and thought: </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah, this is the best part. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not the snow, but Keith himself, with him—and suddenly Lance realized that maybe, just maybe, he’d very grossly underestimated the extent of his feelings. He should’ve seen it coming, really, but hey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. chapter two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The very next morning, Lance bursts into Allura’s room and practically slams the door shut behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his back against it and inhales a deep breath, but before he can even get a word out, Allura takes one look at him and says: “Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the face of a man who has yet to confess his true feelings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance groans, sliding down to the floor and burying his face in his hands. “Allura, I couldn’t do it. I tried, I really tried, but—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this,” Allura points out, folding her legs as she continues to braid her hair over her shoulder, unbothered by the sudden interruption. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance hesitates, blinking into his hands. “Well—no, it’s not, but—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were going to tell him last night?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I was, and then I didn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura lets out a breath, a little exasperated but more so amused. “What keeps stopping you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Lance insists, pushing his hands through his hair and letting them flop to the ground on either side of him. “It’s just that it’s—this is Keith, and he’s—” He struggles to find the right words, thumping his head back against the door. “Different.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura raises one eyebrow questioningly. “And what makes him different?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance opens his mouth, then pauses, heat rising to his cheeks when she gives him an odd look. “Well,” he begins, averting his gaze in favor of staring down at his socks, wiggling his toes nervously. “There’s been a bit of a… new development.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment, but he can see the moment that Allura catches on to what he’s saying. Her eyes widen slightly and her fingers slow until she’s stopped braiding completely, while Lance continues to stare stubbornly at his feet. “Oh,” she says softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance presses his hands to his cheeks and wills them to stop burning. They don’t. He drags his feet toward himself and presses his forehead to his knees with another groan. “I really couldn’t have waited a week or two to have some kind of grand realization, could I? Of course it had to be the first night of a month-long vacation where we’ll be in the same room ninety-nine percent of the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura ties off the end of her hair and swings her legs over the side of the bed. “I have to imagine that you can easily use that to your advantage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah right, how could I possibly—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both jump at the sound of a knock on the door, and Lance grunts an affronted noise when someone on the other side tries to open it and bumps him half an inch across the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry—Lance, what are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance looks up to see Hunk poking his head through the crack he’s made in the door, blinking down at him. “We were just talking,” Allura answers for him, smiling in that polite way she does that keeps people from asking more questions. “What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk brightens, nudging the door open a little further as Lance moves out of the way and climbs to his feet. “Adam and I made breakfast! I was just coming to tell everyone that it’s ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Hunk. We’ll be right down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk shoots them each another smile and then slips away to continue his path down the hallway, leaving the door open as he goes. The second that he’s out of earshot, Lance lets out a long breath, puffing his cheeks out and sliding a hand down his face. He hears the sound of Allura’s feet hitting the ground and her footsteps crossing the room, lifting his head again as she pats his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doomed,” he decides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs sweetly, shaking her head and guiding him forward with a delicate hand on his back. “Don’t worry, Lance. We can talk more about this later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they do. Extensively. Because once Lance gets started, all of a sudden he can’t seem to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand how I didn’t figure it out sooner,” Lance mutters, pacing back and forth across the floor later that afternoon while Allura looks on quietly. They’ve ended up in the movie room, because no one else has any reason to be there which means they have total privacy which means Lance can ramble to his heart’s content without fear of judgment. “I mean, how does something like that just—it’s been forever, I’ve been talking to him nearly every day for months and it’s just now hitting me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly do you mean by ‘it’?” Allura asks, even though she has to know exactly what ‘it’ is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stops pacing. Spends several moments trying to work up the courage to say ‘it’ out loud before tossing a helpless look in Allura’s direction. She’s nice enough to at least try to hide her amusement, pressing her lips together to hold back a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe saying it out loud would help?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance slides his hands down the sides of his face, squishing his cheeks together before letting them fall away. “Fine.” Allura watches as he steps over and falls into the seat beside her with a sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him and rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Okay. Yeah. I can just—see how it feels.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Test the waters,” Allura agrees encouragingly, patting his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Sure, I can do that.” Allura sits back as Lance takes a deep breath, hoping it’ll settle the overwhelming fluttering in his stomach. It doesn’t do much, but at least he tried. “Okay. I think—” He hesitates, feeling a bit silly as he lets his next words roll around in his head a few more times before speaking them into existence. “I think I’m in love with him,” he blurts out, all in one rush of a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room suddenly seems unnaturally quiet, that single statement hanging in the air for what feels like an eternity, heavy and just a little suffocating as it echoes around in his head just as loudly. He lets it linger for a moment longer and then: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” he says abruptly, shaking his head and slapping his hands on his knees to push himself back up to stand. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>in love with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he’s saying it, he knows it’s true. He knows, because the second that the words are out of his mouth, all of the doubt and confusion that’s been weighing him down for so long instantly melts away. It’s kind of freeing really, despite leaving him feeling equally as vulnerable, his heart stripped bare and left on his sleeve for everyone to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Including Keith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cue the panicking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh my god.” Lance runs his hands through his hair and leaves them there, fingers digging into his scalp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance,” Allura tries, shifting forward to sit at the edge of her seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love Keith,” Lance repeats, and the full realization of it seems to slam into him all at once, knocking the breath out of him without warning. “I—when did </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>me and now I’m in love with him? Of course I am, very on brand, why am I even surprised—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance!” Allura interrupts, voice breathless with laughter as she rises to her feet and plants both hands on his shoulders. “Relax. Everything is going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s arms droop at his sides and he lets his head fall onto Allura’s shoulder, groaning loudly. “I don’t know what the Altean equivalent of ‘fine’ is, but this is not it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura sighs, obligingly patting his head while he blinks forlornly down at the ground. “How about,” she starts slowly, laying her hand across his back, “we sit down and we talk about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance makes a small, pained noise. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Allura pushes him away so that he’s at arm’s length, expression deadpan and bordering on disbelief. Lance huffs. “Okay fine, I really wanna talk about it.” Allura snorts a little as he sidesteps her and flops back into one of the seats, pulling his legs up and making himself comfortable. “You’re the one who made me come in here, so now you have to listen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the plan,” Allura hums, settling into the seat beside him with much more grace than Lance had just displayed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me preface by saying that you’re not allowed to do commentary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key, and Lance’s mouth momentarily twitches up into a smile as he remembers the day that he and Pidge had taught her that very expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. So.” He takes a deep breath, rubbing his hands on his knees. “I’m… not actually sure where to start. Um—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Start with last night,” Allura suggests helpfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance grimaces a little just thinking about it, doing his best to ignore the residual sense of panic leftover from the moment of realization. “Right. I was supposed to—confess. Last night. And then I didn’t, because…” He trails off, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “Now that I’m actually talking about it I don’t really know how to explain. I guess it kind of scared me? It makes a lot of sense actually, it makes a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of things make sense. But I was already worried that a simple ‘I like you’ would freak him out, and now this? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s come a long way since Voltron, but feelings are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>his forte.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s already rambling again, all of his thoughts swirling together and snowballing all at once, almost too fast to keep up with. “And it took so long for us to get where we are now, I don’t want to mess that up. What if I tell him and it ruins all that? I don’t want to screw up what we already have, I just—I don’t know if it’s worth the risk. So after last night, it’s like all the things I was already worried about multiplied by ten billion thousand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s a real number,” Allura points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commentary!” Lance squawks. Allura stifles a laugh and remimes zipping her lips, and Lance takes a moment to regain control over his train of thought before continuing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Anyway. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do from here. Like, am I doing all of this backwards? I’m pretty sure most people fall in love </span>
  <em>
    <span>after </span>
  </em>
  <span>they’ve been dating someone for a while, not before, and my feelings from before last night aren’t reciprocated so there’s no way that my feelings </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>are reciprocated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So maybe—okay, I have two options. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell him, because I’ve heard apparently that can help you get over someone and move on, but also have to suffer through his inevitable rejection, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>I could just save both of us all the trouble and say nothing and live with it and hope that eventually I’ll move on all by myself.” He pauses to take in a lungful of air, considering. “And then probably end up dying by spontaneous combustion. Neither are very good options, clearly. Even if there’s the tiniest sliver of a chance that he feels even a little bit the same way, I don’t know… I’m not willing to risk our friendship for something that isn’t going to happen. I don’t know. I don’t know! Is that selfish?” When a long moment of silence passes with no response, he lifts his head to see Allura staring at him, both eyebrows raised expectantly. Lance sighs. “I hereby lift my ban on your commentary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura exhales rather dramatically, and Lance squints at her as she shifts in her seat to face him better. “Thank you. Now, if I may.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Thank you. Now.” She rolls her eyes and smiles as Lance snickers, but she quickly grows serious once again, resting her hand on the armrest between them. Lance’s laughter fades immediately, because the look on her face is one that is suspiciously familiar, reminding him of the very look that Veronica had given him through the screen just a day or two ago. “Really, Lance. Is there a reason that you’re approaching all of this with the assumption that Keith doesn’t like you back?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blinks at her, cheeks warming a little. “What do you—I mean, yeah?” He splutters a little at the incredulous expression that crosses her face. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seems to study him for a long moment, eyes scanning his face before she sits back slightly. “For the sake of discussion, say that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>return your feelings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allura—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you be upset with yourself if you never said anything and let the opportunity pass you by?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stares at her, mouth open but not speaking, unsure of exactly how to respond. Because sure, when he allows himself to consider the possibility then yeah, of course he’d be upset with himself if he never said anything. But at the same time, so much time has passed already, and so much has changed, and just thinking about it fills him with such a gnawing sense of anxiety that it’s hard to focus on anything else. He lowers his gaze to his lap, curling his fingers against his palms. “I mean, yeah, but I just… what if we already missed our chance?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura laughs softly, shaking her head. “There’s no such thing. You’re making a decision before there’s even a decision to be made.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t even make sense,” Lance grumbles at his hands.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think that Keith at least deserves a choice?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance looks up, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, by not saying anything to him, you’re making the choice for him. You haven’t even given him the chance to choose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to find anything wrong with that logic. Probably because there is, in fact, nothing wrong with it. Lance scrubs a hand down his face and lets it fall back into his lap. “Could you just. Stop being wise, for two seconds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura laughs at that, bright and warm in the dimness of the room. “But you understand what I mean, don’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance picks at a loose thread in his sock, chewing on his lip. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I get it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up again when Allura puts a hand on his shoulder, lips curled up into a small smile. “I’m not saying you need to tell him immediately,” she adds, voice gentle. “You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. Just… give him a chance, at least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance lets himself smile back, just a little. He’s about to say something else when he’s interrupted by a buzz in his back pocket, and he pulls his handheld out to check the screen. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura leans forward and peers down at the message he’s received. “Hot chocolate?” she reads questioningly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ll love it,” Lance assures her, already typing out a response. “Super popular Earth drink during the holidays, it’s really good, especially when—” He falters, narrowing his eyes when he lifts his head to see Allura shooting him a sly smile. “What.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile grows. “The smiley face didn’t seem entirely necessary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I was just—I send everyone smiley faces!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Allura hums agreeably but not at all convincingly, standing from her seat and starting for the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance tosses his head back and sighs, dragging himself to his feet and following behind. “Allura, please, not you too. I hear enough teasing from Hunk and Pidge to last me a lifetime.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not teasing!” Allura protests, pushing the door open for them both and stepping out into the hall. “I’m simply—observing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your observations are not appreciated,” Lance retorts dryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura laughs, linking her arm through his as they make their way down to the kitchen. “But you appreciate me, don’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance glances over at her, feigning consideration as Allura smiles innocently up at him. He gives up too quickly though, because at this point he’s far too fond of her to put up much of a fight. “Yeah,” he admits, and her smile brightens, making it near impossible for Lance not to smile back. “I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if that isn’t the understatement of the century.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. chapter three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lance starts plotting almost immediately after he hears the words ‘snowball fight’ leave Shiro’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against Keith, specifically. Obviously. For reasons unrelated to the love thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a given that Shiro would wind up as a one-man team, on account of his arm giving him a significant advantage. Also, apparently he played baseball back in the day? Lance should’ve picked up on that honestly, after he dominated the space version of a snowball fight they had all that time ago with the blue glowy things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Long story short, he already has the upper hand, and Lance is completely willing to provide him with yet one more asset: himself. He still needs payback for the blue glowy thing he took to the face, compliments of Keith. The others will tease him for it later, but he’s put up with it for this long, so what’s a little more? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he’s en route to talk to Shiro and convince him to let Lance secretly join his team and sabotage Keith—literally, already up the stairs and halfway down the hall on his way to Shiro’s room, when Keith decides to absolutely wreck all of his plans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pssst. Lance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stops in his tracks and wheels around, trying not to look like he’s been caught even though there’s no possible way anyone would actually know what he was just on his way to do. He doesn’t even realize it’s Keith at first, scanning the hall behind him in confusion for the source of the voice before spotting his head from where it’s stuck through the entrance of the game room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squints. “Keith? What’re you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shushes him, waving frantically to emphasize it, and Lance snaps his mouth shut, his confusion growing with each passing second. He blinks as Keith motions for him to come closer, but he finds himself complying without question, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone else is around. The moment that he’s close enough, Keith reaches out, grabs his wrist, and hauls him into the game room, ignoring Lance’s yelp of surprise and pushing the door closed behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith, what in the world are you—” He stumbles back a step when Keith abruptly turns on him, back hitting the wall. And then Keith steps even closer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too close, brow creased and jaw set and a determined glint in his eye that sends Lance’s stomach swooping all the way down to his knees, because it sends a hundred different scenarios flashing through his mind; ninety-nine of which have to do with Keith trapping him right there against the wall and kissing him senseless, but—that’s beside the point. Only it’s not, because Keith is </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Lance thinks he might die. He just hopes that his face isn’t as red as it feels. “Uh?” he squeaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to ask you something,” Keith says, very seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance thinks his heart skips a beat. “Okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s super important,” Keith continues, gaze hopeful and expectant and fully trained on Lance, who is still trying not to die. “And you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise,” Lance answers immediately, his concern about sounding way too eager quickly disappearing when Keith’s face lights up. Like, literally lights up, eyes practically sparkling with excitement in a way that Lance has never seen before, and it’s so utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Keith that Lance hardly even believes it’s him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I did that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks briefly, and then mentally slaps himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith glances around the room almost conspiratorially, checking the door one more time before looking back at Lance. “I need your help winning the snowball fight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blanks. He what? “You… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The snowball fight? The one we all planned maybe ten minutes ago? Everyone versus Shiro?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh—no, I mean—I get that part,” Lance stammers, confused. “But what do you mean you need my help? We’re already on the same team.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Keith agrees, shaking his arms so the sleeves of his hoodie fall past his fingers, probably because his hands are always freezing and also one of the reasons Lance wants to hold them all the time. Also unrelated to the love thing. “That’s what we need Shiro to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stares at him. “Come again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith huffs, frowning, and it’s so adorably pouty and endearing that it takes everything in Lance not to tip forward and kiss him right there. “Look, Shiro is gonna do whatever it takes to win this thing. He’s pretty good at hiding it, but he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>super </span>
  </em>
  <span>competitive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re talking to the guy with four siblings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Keith’s mouth quirks up. “Do you want to help me or not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance narrows his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. “You still haven’t clarified </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>you need my help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith bites his lip, eyeing the door one more time before he finally comes out with it. “I need you to trick Shiro into thinking you’re on his side.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance tries not to choke. “Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just have to convince him you’re on their team and pretend that you’re going to betray us,” Keith continues excitedly, practically bouncing up and down on his toes at this point. “When actually you’re going to betray them instead, and they’ll never see it coming because—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waitwaitwait,” Lance interrupts, waving his hands in a time-out motion despite the part of him that desperately wants Keith to keep talking because he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>excited and </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>is he </span>
  <em>
    <span>so cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “You keep saying they, who’s they?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith blinks confusedly, and then realization flashes across his face and he snorts. “Oh, yeah. Adam is gonna betray us for Shiro. Guaranteed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That—” Lance cuts himself off, processing. “... makes sense, actually. But I don’t get it, why don’t you just make them think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>on their side?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith scoffs. “Are you kidding? They’d never believe me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance raises his eyebrows. “Then why would they believe that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> on their side?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on. You’ve been trying to get back at me ever since I threw that glowy blue space thing in your face.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is, in fact, the very reason that Lance had just been on his way to plot with Shiro. Lance decides not to mention it. “Alright,” he allows eventually. “Fair point. But even if I agree to help you, how do you know I won’t just trick </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> and stay on Shiro’s side?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith makes a strange sort of face, like he doesn’t quite understand the question or why it’s being asked. “Because I trust you,” he says simply, as if it’s one of the most obvious things in the world. Lance’s heart </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>skips a beat or five.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he manages, trying his best not to sound like he’s being strangled. “What are you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith smirks, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a plan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technically, Lance still hasn’t officially agreed to help him, but he supposes that doesn’t really matter. As if he was ever going to say no.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granted, it’s a very thorough, well thought out plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s mission: convince Shiro that he intends to betray Keith, gain his trust, and in turn gain Adam’s, since he’s not actually supposed to know yet that Adam is going to turn on them anyway, and finally relay Keith’s plan to them both by disguising it as his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It turns out to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>easier than expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in,” Shiro says, before Lance can even finish speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks, mouth still open from where he’d been interrupted mid-sentence. “Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said,” Shiro begins, drumming the tips of his fingers together like he’s a mad scientist hatching a plan of his own. “You’re in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was kind of counting on it, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance splutters. “Wh—you were?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I was,” Shiro chuckles, shrugging his coat onto his shoulders. “You’ve been trying to get back at Keith ever since he threw that glowy blue space thing in your face.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, well. Sike, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance doesn’t say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now I’m only pretending to still want to get back at your brother when really I’m carrying out his plan to sabotage you because plot twist, I’m actually in love with him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair point,” he sighs, and grins when Shiro only laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance never realized until now just how much he’s missed being a team. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Keith, specifically, because there always was something about the two of them that felt different. They spend the rest of the morning conspiring against Adam and Shiro, huddled together and murmuring quietly, or shooting knowing looks at each other across the room, or trying their best not to snicker every time Adam pretends to be excited to go after Shiro. The best part is that it’s not even suspicious, because that’s kind of how they already act, and Shiro and Adam both think that Lance is just trying to butter Keith up so that he’s blind-sided by his supposed imminent betrayal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, he takes it back. The best part is that Keith doesn’t trust anyone else to be able to keep their plan under wraps, which means they’re the only two who really, truly know what’s going on. Which means that every subtle look, every tiny smile and every silly hand signal makes Lance’s heart flutter wildly in his chest, because they’re meant for him and him only. He loves the feeling of sharing a secret with Keith, tries not to let it go to his head but can’t help it when he can’t stop thinking about the way Keith had looked at him and said </span>
  <em>
    <span>I trust you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>zero hesitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s selfish for him to wish that this was all happening in a slightly different context, but he supposes he’ll take what he can get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s absolutely worth it for the sheer amount of smiling that Keith does throughout the day, though. Lance feels like he’s seeing a completely new side of him; the side that never really got to come out while they were in space because they were so busy trying to save the universe, the side of him that’s still just a kid that likes to have fun, just like the rest of them. Also, he doesn’t mind how often Keith sidles up next to him and leans in close, speaking quietly for only them to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For example: he’s watching Adam and Shiro build the fort outside in the yard when Keith slips out the front door and joins him on the porch, standing close enough for their arms to brush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. You told them about the roof?” he asks, lowering his voice so it doesn’t carry across the yard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Lance chuckles, leaning against the wooden railing and watching his breath disappear into the air. “You were right. They took the bait, easy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just as we planned,” Keith mutters, rubbing his gloved hands together and grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so out of character and yet so very Keith that Lance can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “Man, I had no idea you could be so…” He trails off as he searches for the right word, waving a hand in his direction. “Crafty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith just shrugs, folding his arms across the railing as he looks out into the yard. “I guess. I’ve never really had anyone to help me mess with them though, so this is kind of a first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m honored,” Lance hums, and smiles when Keith snorts and bumps his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while they’re quiet, content to stand there and watch Adam and Shiro pack snow onto the slowly growing fort, the sound of their voices and laughter drifting across the space between them. Lance does his best to remain very still, because Keith’s arm is still pressed lightly against his and he wants to keep it that way for as long as possible. He wonders if Keith is doing the same, if this is doing anything to his heart like it’s doing to Lance’s or if it doesn’t really mean anything to him at all. If maybe, he misses the whole team thing just as much as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance drums his fingers against the banister, chewing on his lip for a moment before chancing to speak again. “Do you ever miss this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith glances over at him, brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like… this,” Lance repeats, which isn’t much clarification at all, but he can’t seem to make himself say the right words. “Like, you know. Us, working together, even if it’s just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Keith answers immediately. Lance blinks at him, surprised, and Keith’s face might flush slightly but maybe it’s just from the cold. Either way, it’s hard to tell when he quickly turns away to face the yard once again, feet shuffling against the porch. “I mean, I don’t miss the war, obviously. But yeah, I miss—if I missed anything, it’d be that.” He clears his throat, folding his arms a little tighter over the railing. “Working with you, I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance looks down at his feet, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back the smile that’s attempting to break out across his face. “Yeah, makes sense. I’m pretty great to work with, honestly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Keith deadpans, voice already dry with exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, I don’t blame you. I’d miss working with me too—” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keith repeats, trying but failing to hide the clear amusement on his face as he reaches out to shove at Lance’s shoulder, which isn’t very far. Lance staggers a little and makes a big show about it, grinning when Keith snorts behind his hand, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A ridiculously good teammate,” Lance gloats, laughing when Keith heaves a sigh, his breath puffing out in a cloud and disappearing into the air. “Okay, really though. I miss it too.” Keith turns his head just enough to eye him curiously as he looks down at where he’s splayed his fingers back across the railing, heart resuming its stuttering pace in his chest. “Working together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith seems to consider him for another moment, and Lance allows himself to breathe when he finally looks away again and hums thoughtfully. “We’re pretty good at it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance taps the toe of his boot against the floor. “We really are a good team, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Keith’s mouth twitches up and he huffs into the air, gaze fixed on Adam and Shiro out in the yard, still hard at work on the fort. “Yeah. We are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stills suddenly, expression morphing into one of confusion as he processes. “Wait a second.” He whips back around to confront Lance, who’s already tip-toeing his way back to the front door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait </span>
  </em>
  <span>a second—Lance!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance throws the door open and bolts inside without looking back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance, </span>
  <em>
    <span>get back here!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance wisely does not get back there. At least, not until Keith has chased him through nearly the entire cabin and back outside into the snow, where he trips and falls and drags Keith down with him. Keith spends the next several minutes shoving snow in Lance’s face while he laughs, and laughs until he doesn’t even have enough energy to defend himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” Keith begins, breathless, looking very much like he’s trying to be annoyed but failing miserably on that account as he smacks a handful of snow against Lance’s cheek, mouth smiling the entire time. “Are the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Lance wheezes, and laughs again, even when it earns him another handful of snow to the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“I can’t believe you actually remember,” Keith complains later, sprawled out beside Lance in the snow, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. “After all this time. It’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>years.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember everything,” Lance retorts, shivering a little from the clumps of snow melting underneath the collar of his coat. It’s only a half-truth, but Keith doesn’t have to know that.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>About you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he doesn’t add.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not yet.)</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. chapter four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I was talking to Allura the other day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance really doesn’t mean to drop the ornament, but, well. Here he is. Sitting in the library surrounded by glittery ornaments and tiny pine needles while Keith stares at him like maybe he’s a little crazy, which—probably, but who can blame him? When Keith mentioned that he had a question, the last thing Lance had expected was this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair, he’s very likely overreacting, because he doesn’t actually know why Keith was talking to Allura or even what specifically they were talking about. He has no reason to jump to conclusions, and no reason to assume that Allura shared any sort of… sensitive information. Also, technically that wasn’t a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says as much. Keith keeps staring, even as Lance returns his attention to their tree and hangs another ornament.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Keith continues eventually, and Lance busies himself by rummaging through their box, just to give himself something to do. “One of the first days we were here when Adam made hot chocolate, I saw you guys in the movie room but I didn’t want to interrupt, so—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s heart stops, probably, and somehow, by the grace of whatever space deities may or may not exist, he manages to hide it. Allura didn’t tell Keith what they were talking about. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, she said that I might have come up, at some point? During the conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance would laugh about the sheer irony of it all if he weren’t already so mortified. His first brief, utterly horrifying thought is that Keith </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He knows exactly what they were talking about, he knows exactly why they were talking about it, meaning he knows exactly how Lance feels about him. This is some kind of test, and he’s waiting to see if Lance will answer honestly or lie his pants off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing that gives him any sense of peace is the fact that he knows with absolute certainty that Allura would never in a million years go behind his back like that. She’d never say anything specific about their conversation to Keith without Lance’s explicit permission—and even if she had his permission, she wouldn’t tell him anyway, considering how strongly she feels about Lance telling Keith himself. All he has to do is play it cool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, maybe,” he hears himself say, shrugging. “Once or twice. Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith seems to hesitate for a moment. “She said I should ask you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance resists the urge to sigh. “Of course she did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Lance blurts, and scrambles to come up with some kind of excuse that’s even halfway believable. “We were just talking about—you know. Just like—Voltron stuff. That’s all. Reliving old memories, or whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A beat of silence. “Oh,” Keith says quietly, and if Lance didn’t know any better, he’d say Keith almost sounds… disappointed? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wishful thinking, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he tells himself, resolutely avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. Nothing super important,” he lies, as if Keith hasn’t been one of the most important things in his life ever since he was a bright-eyed freshman cadet at the Garrison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, things kind of go downhill after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an intervention,” Pidge declares later that night, flinging the door to Lance’s room open and marching inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Lance says, propping himself up on his elbows and watching as Hunk tumbles in after her, pushing the door closed behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge climbs onto the bed and pushes Lance’s legs out of the way to make a spot for herself, ignoring his squawk of protest. “What happened with Keith?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance immediately shoots up, arms flailing a little. “Nothing happened with Keith!” he hisses, eyes darting over to his door. “And try to keep it down, will you, he’s right across the hall!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>about Keith,” Hunk observes, hopping onto the bed and making the other two bounce a little upon impact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aha!” Pidge thrusts a finger in Lance’s face and he jerks back, startled. “But you admit that there’s an ‘it’ in the first place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance flushes. “I don’t have time for your word games, Pidge.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you even doing before we came in here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance was, in fact, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling and thinking about Keith and to what extent he’s royally screwed up. “Important things,” he insists, voice coming out a bit more choked than he’d meant for it to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Hunk sighs, leaning back on his hands. “You’ve been acting weird ever since you came back out of the library. Did Keith not let you put the star on top of the tree?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—no, of course he let me put the star on top of the tree, because he’s actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk and Pidge glance at each other. “Then why have you switched from staring longingly at him from across the room to frantically avoiding eye contact?” Pidge deadpans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance can feel his face burning, but he refuses to admit defeat. “First of all, I take issue with the entirety of that statement. Second of all—” He yelps when Hunk reaches out and grabs his ankles, yanking him forward so that his back falls against the mattress, narrowly avoiding smacking his head against the headboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know you, Lance,” Hunk begins, staring right back as Lance squints up at him. “You’re evading.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>evading.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re acting weird!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weirder than usual,” Pidge corrects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncalled for,” Lance glares, folding his arms over his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk pokes the bottom of Lance’s foot and he squeaks. “Lance, c’mooon. Spill.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance presses his lips together and narrows his eyes, considering them. Hunk raises his eyebrows impatiently, and Pidge puts on her best puppy eyes, hands clasped together and eyes shining. Lance snorts. “You know that doesn’t work on me, Pigeon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge’s shoulders slump and she pouts. “I’ll bite you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance groans, flopping his arms out on either side of him. “I’ll tell. But only because I believe you.” He sighs as both Hunk and Pidge perk up immediately, leaning forward and staring at him expectantly. “Remember the other day, when Allura and I went to check out the movie room?” They nod, looking a bit confused as to why it’s relevant but keeping their mouths closed. “We were talking about Keith.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk blinks. “Okay…?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance swallows, averting his gaze and focusing on a tiny crack in the ceiling. “And. How I kind of realized some… things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things,” Hunk echoes confusedly. Pidge, on the other hand, has gone oddly silent, brow creased and head tilted slightly like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. A moment of quiet passes by, and then: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance snatches the nearest pillow and shoves it over his face. “Go ahead,” he grumbles, voice muffled. “Make fun of me all you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can practically hear Pidge and Hunk glancing at one another, which seems to be a common occurrence now in Lance’s general presence. Hardly a few seconds later, the pillow is being lifted from his head and tossed aside by Hunk, eyes wide as he peers down at him. “Wait, really? You’re in love with him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could we maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>broadcast my personal crisis to the entirety of the cabin?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Hunk winces, lowering his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, but—then what happened?” Pidge demands, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Why are you only acting weird about it now if you figured that out nearly two weeks ago?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance shoots her a funny look, pushing himself back up to lean on his elbows. “Who are you and what have you done with Pidge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hello? Aren’t you gonna make fun of me or something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widen slightly and she glances down at her lap, shifting uncomfortably. “Well—no,” she mumbles. “I don’t wanna make fun of you for something so important to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stares, thrown completely off guard. “Oh. That’s… really nice, actually. Are you feeling okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge looks up at him with a huff. “Lance—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he chuckles, moving to sit up fully again. “Really, guys, it’s nothing. He just—” He hesitates, pushing his fingers through his hair before continuing. “Apparently he saw Allura and me in the movie room, so she told him we’d been talking about him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And she told him to ask you why, didn’t she?” Hunk guesses, brow furrowing sympathetically. “So he did. And now you’re freaking out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance inhales deeply, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah,” he breathes out, falling forward and thumping his head against Hunk’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk pats his back. “I’m assuming you didn’t just tell him the truth. You know, like a normal person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Lance grumbles. Hunk sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them jump when the door suddenly bursts open and Allura sweeps in, hair billowing behind her. She opens her mouth to speak and then falters when her eyes fall on the others, each of them blinking confusedly at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She purses her lips. “Hm. I see the intervention has begun without me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance buries his face in his hands and groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It keeps getting worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance would feel bad, except—well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel bad. He can’t even bring himself to look at Keith the next day, no matter how hard he tries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hardly bring himself to look at anyone, really. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the sympathy, but he’s already grown tired of the concerned glances that Hunk and Allura keep shooting his way every time Keith walks in or out of a room. Even Pidge has kept her own usual teasing to a minimum, mostly keeping to herself and even going so far as to distract Keith when the tension in the room tips toward unbearable, which is… often. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance finds Shiro and Allura in the upstairs hallway after breakfast on his way to change out of his pajamas, speaking to one another in hushed tones. Honestly, he wouldn’t have thought anything about it, until he happens to catch Shiro mouthing his name. Maybe he panics.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you guys talking about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Shiro and Allura’s heads snap up, eyes widening slightly when they see Lance standing at the other end of the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Hey, Lance, we were just—” Shiro glances over at Allura, who gives the slightest, most miniscule shake of her head. He seems to struggle to find words for a moment before redirecting. “Well—are you feeling okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s gaze flicks toward Allura and back, trying not to look visibly panicked like some kind of cornered animal. Did Allura tell him what happened? Does he know about their conversation too? Does he </span>
  <em>
    <span>know?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel fine,” he says finally, hoping it doesn’t come across as defensive as he feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s face seems to twitch a little. “Okay. Actually, er—” He shoots another look in Allura’s direction before turning his full attention toward Lance. “Mind if I talk to you for a second?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance just shrugs in response, not trusting his voice to be steady at this point. He pushes open the door to his room and steps inside without really waiting to see if Shiro will follow. A short moment later, Shiro appears at the door and slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Lance flops onto the bed, and folds his legs in front of him, heart pattering anxiously. “What’s up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a beat of silence as Shiro shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “I don’t know,” he answers eventually. Cautiously. “Why don’t you tell me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance laughs nervously. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro frowns. “Did something happen yesterday?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t exactly been subtle, Lance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance pales. That’s it. Shiro knows. Shiro knows, and he’s about to give him some kind of obligatory older brother speech about attempting to date his younger brother. Lance is </span>
  <em>
    <span>doomed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sighs, crossing the room to stand closer to Lance, who resists the urge to shrink back protectively. “You’ve hardly said anything to Keith all day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—okay?” Lance chokes out. “I don’t see the issue here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro narrows his eyes at him. “Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>his bed head this morning?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance snorts, stifling his laughter with the back of his hand. Because yeah, he did, and it was absolutely hilarious how awful it was, but also endearing and adorable because of the way he pouted when Adam teased him for it at breakfast—his mind catches up with his thoughts and he flushes, dropping his hand into his lap and clearing his throat. “What does Keith’s bedhead have to do with anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fact that you didn’t say anything about it is incredibly concerning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance opens his mouth. Closes it. “Fair,” he admits, scratching at his wrist in an effort to hide the way his shoulders slump in relief with the realization that this conversation is not quite what he thought it would be. “But nothing’s wrong, I swear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judging by the expression on Shiro’s face, he is the opposite of convinced. “You two aren’t fighting, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No, not at all.” Shiro still looks like he wants to protest, but Lance stops him before he can do so. “It’s nothing, Shiro, really. I promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro folds his arms, considering him. Lance summons the most believable, genuine smile that he can muster, unsure of how well he succeeds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything is not fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance is halfway through a game of pool with Hunk. He is losing spectacularly.</span>
</p><p><span>This isn’t all that unusual when playing against Hunk, but it’s infinitely more difficult to focus on his shots when he can literally</span> <span>feel Keith’s eyes on him throughout the majority of the game. </span></p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking a snack break,” he announces to no one in particular, just after missing his third shot in a row. Seems like the perfect metaphor for his life, currently. If he were to actually, you know, take a shot. Anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take too long,” Hunk calls after him, because he’s already halfway across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second he’s certain that he’s out of earshot, he exhales a long, deep breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, pushing a hand through his hair. He hasn’t been able to catch his breath all day, too on edge and too flustered to even think straight (ha) most of the time. The fact that everyone keeps </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him for one reason or another isn’t at all helpful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He already feels awful enough that Keith’s noticed his odd behavior, as evidenced by the way he’s gradually stopped attempting to initiate any sort of conversation between them and instead begun to go quiet every time they’re in the same room. Lance knows that he needs to pull himself together, and soon, because if he doesn’t stop acting so strange then Keith will probably start to think that he’s done something wrong, which couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s Lance’s own fault anyway, considering he was the one who chickened out two weeks ago in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could just save both of us all the trouble and say nothing and live with it and hope that eventually I’ll move on all by myself, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll be great, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes the stairs two steps at a time on his way down to the kitchen and steals exactly four gingerbread cookies from Adam’s secret stash and tries not to think about how he only knows where they are because of Keith. The floor is cold, but he slides back against the counter and sits on it anyway, thumping his head back against one of the cabinets and biting the head off one of his cookies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I,” he mutters to himself around a mouthful of gingerbread, “am an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His handheld buzzes in the pocket of his sweats and he pulls it out without looking, holding it up in front of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>pidge &gt; lancey lance</b>
  <b>
    <br/>
  </b>
  <span>December 14th, 3:22 PM</span>
</p><p>
  <b>pidge: </b>
  <span>not sure how much this helps but</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>you’re kind of definitely freaking keith out</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance winces, any last shred of hope that maybe Keith hadn’t quite noticed anything instantly dissipating from his mind like smoke. Smoke is a good metaphor, he thinks, since he can’t seem to make his face stop burning every time he so much as makes eye contact with Keith now. He stuffs the rest of the cookie in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s wondering how many more he can swipe from Adam’s jar while still avoiding suspicion when he hears footsteps approaching from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance?” Lance jumps and looks up to find Allura leaning over the edge of the counter and peering down at him with a smile. Wait, she’s upside down. Nope. Definitely frowning. “What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance slowly finishes chewing and swallows, gesturing to the two leftover gingerbread men in his lap. “Snack.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura’s frown-that-looks-like-a-smile deepens before she sighs, only disappearing for a moment as she moves around to the other side. Lance dips his head and shoves another cookie in his mouth, stubbornly lowering his gaze to his lap while she sits down beside him, graceful as always. She doesn’t say anything immediately, the only sound in the room that of Lance munching on his cookies and his socks sliding across the floor as he nervously drags his feet back and forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence stretches on long enough for Lance to finish his third cookie, and then: “Lance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Lance mumbles, snapping the arm off the last one. He stares down at it, reminded yet again of the night he and Keith had raided the jar, and the cookie Keith had joked looked like Shiro. Suddenly he doesn’t really feel all that hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura crosses one ankle over the other, folding her hands in her lap. “I thought we talked about this,” she says gently. Lance doesn’t answer, chewing on his lip and breaking off the other arm. Allura leans forward a little and tilts her head toward him in an attempt to make eye contact. “He told me what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s head snaps up at that, eyes widening, panic spiking through his chest. “He talked to you about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he can’t talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it, considering how you’ll barely speak to him. He thinks he’s upset you somehow.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance closes his eyes and pitches his head forward into his hands with a groan, abandoning his cookie in his lap. “God, he must hate me right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura huffs out a disbelieving breath. “Quite the opposite, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to come down here to try to make me feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a small noise of complaint when Allura forcibly peels his hands away from his face, already shifting so that they’re face-to-face, leaving him no option but to look at her. “I’m not trying to make you feel better,” she retorts, looking rather incredulous for reasons unknown to Lance. “I’m trying to—knock some sense into you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have plenty of sense!” Lance protests with a half-hearted pout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura briefly tilts her chin back and shakes her head at the ceiling, as if she’s asking some intergalactic deity to give her strength. It wouldn’t be all that strange, Lance supposes, after everything he’s seen. “Lance, how can you possibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>see it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—see what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns as Allura plants her hands on either of his cheeks, leaning in close with determination written all over her face. “Keith </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>you,” she says very clearly, punctuating each word with a space between to emphasize her point. “You’re just too wrapped up in your own head to pay it any attention.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stares at her, eyes wide, lips puckered slightly from where his cheeks are squished between Allura’s hands. A single flicker of hope has ignited in his chest, white-hot and almost desperate. Not that it hadn’t been there before, but he’d mostly tucked it away and tried to ignore it; now it feels very vulnerable and exposed, like the slightest puff of air and it could go out completely. Lance does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He—you’re just saying that,” he answers weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura releases her hold on him and lets her hands fall to her knees, the look on her face becoming increasingly more disbelieving. “Why would I lie to you about this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance flounders, struggling to form a proper sentence. “I—you wouldn’t! I don’t think.” He grimaces slightly at the borderline murderous glare that earns him from Allura, dragging his knees toward his chest and shoulders hiking up toward his ears. “Look, Allura, I’m just—I’m scared, okay?” His eyes drift toward the cookie that’s fallen from his lap onto the floor, the sudden quiet in the kitchen doing nothing to help soothe his nerves. “If something actually happens between us, then—I don’t wanna mess it up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps his arms around his legs and hugs them to his chest, lowering his forehead to his knees with a long, deep sigh. The lack of sleep from last night seems to be quickly catching up to him now that he’s sitting down, making his eyelids heavy and his body ache, but he’s too restless to be able to do anything about it. Also, he kind of has to deal with this pressing matter first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura doesn’t say anything else for a while, long enough that Lance nearly forgets she’s there. He starts a little when she speaks again, despite how soft her voice is. “Again, Lance. How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blinks into his knees, teeth tugging at his lower lip. “I guess I don’t,” he admits quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reluctantly lifts his head when Allura’s hand settles on his shoulder, her eyes searching his face for a moment before meeting his gaze. “You have to talk to him. Preferably sooner rather than later.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance swallows, eyes fluttering down to the sad, dismembered cookie still lying on the ground. “I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She offers a small, encouraging smile, and then climbs to her feet and holds out her hand. “Now, I believe you still have a game to finish. Your move.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your move, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she says. Lance wonders, even as he takes her hand and lets her pull him to his feet, if she can hear the irony in her own statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s in his room later, pacing back and forth across the floor as he attempts to figure out two very important things: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One, how exactly to start a conversation with Keith that’s likely going to be very awkward and uncomfortable, considering that they haven’t spoken properly all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And two, how and where to have said conversation without the entire cabin knowing what’s going on, because he’d really rather not have to worry about any potential eavesdroppers while trying to tell his rival-turned-teammate-turned-friend-turned-crush that he’s in love with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk told him that Keith went to his room after Lance left in the middle of the game. Shiro has gone in and out once or twice, but other than that, Keith hasn’t emerged to talk to anyone. It’s only been a couple of hours, but Lance can’t help but feel like he’s being avoided. Which makes sense, honestly, because he can’t imagine that he’s been very pleasant to be around today, and he’s done his fair share of avoiding. He sighs, stopping in the middle of the room and running his fingers through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, man,” he mutters to himself. “Pull it together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinches slightly at the sound of a brisk knock on his door and turns around to find Adam poking his head into the room. “Hey, Takashi and I are heading to the store. Wanna come with?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blinks. “Oh. Um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunk and Pidge are coming,” Adam offers, like he can sense Lance’s uncertainty. “And Allura.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But not Keith? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Is Keith going?” Lance asks before he can stop himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. Other than that, his expression remains impressively neutral, even as he glances over his shoulder at Keith’s door. “I haven’t asked yet, but probably not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s eyes fall to the floor as he chews his lip, considering, but it doesn’t take very long for him to come to a decision. “You know, I think—” He clears his throat and glances back up at Adam, still waiting patiently. “I’m just gonna stay here, if that’s alright with you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Adam nods, already backing out of the room. “We’ll make dinner when we get back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he closes the door, and Lance is left with nothing else to do but wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reflection in the mirror stares back at him, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed and feet wearing four pairs of socks because he’s freezing. Also, wearing a rumpled red hoodie that is very much not his. It’s just a little tight on his shoulders, but other than that it fits nicely, warm and soft and—well, Keith’s. Because he offered to let Lance keep it when he tried to give it back, and what was he gonna do, say no?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance stares a little more. He shoves his hands into the pocket on its front, pulls them out, runs his fingers through his hair. Then he falls face first onto his bed and tries not to scream.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wishes he could say he planned this, but he definitely… didn’t. Getting locked out just before dark in the dead of winter without coats with the person he’s been ghosting in real life all day was </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>part of the plan. Neither was ending up squished against said person’s side on the couch underneath a pile of blankets, or holding said person’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance can still hear Keith’s voice echoing in his mind, the uncharacteristic hesitance and shyness of his tone when he told Lance </span>
  <em>
    <span>it wasn’t all bad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>At first, he’d thought it was a kind of ridiculous thing to say, until he realized exactly what Keith meant. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What part of getting locked out in the freezing cold while wearing nothing but T-shirts and socks with no way of getting back inside and no way of communicating with anyone who </span>
  </em>
  <span>can </span>
  <em>
    <span>get us back inside is—ohhh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair, he still tried to be careful about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Test the waters, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Allura would say. There’s a reason he started by practically inching his hand closer and closer to Keith’s until only their pinkies were touching, heart pounding so hard in his chest it was almost painful. He mentally added that moment to his personal list of top ten most terrifying moments of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was when Keith didn’t pull away that Lance finally knew this was real, this was happening. There were basically sirens going off in his head, screaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>red alert, red alert! This is not a drill! Full speed ahead! </span>
  </em>
  <span>all while he was sliding his hand underneath Keith’s and tangling their fingers together. His face burns just thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders what Keith is doing right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance scrambles to sit up, snatching his handheld from the bedside table and checking the time, squinting a little against the brightness of the screen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>1:14 AM. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His shoulders slump slightly, although he’s not sure exactly what he’d been hoping to do if it weren’t already the middle of the night. Walk across the hall to Keith’s room and knock on the door and finally confess his feelings?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers this for a second and a half, tops, before falling onto his back and throwing his arm over his face with a muffled groan. First of all, Keith is probably asleep, like a normal person. Second of all—well, that’s it, really. Other than the fact that even entertaining the idea sends Lance’s stomach somersaulting into oblivion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brain doesn’t seem to appreciate him giving up so soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dude, what’s the holdup? </span>
  </em>
  <span>it sighs.</span>
  <em>
    <span> He held your hand, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>he let you keep his hoodie. Sounds pretty gay to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance drops his handheld and presses his hands against his cheeks, which are now so hot he’s almost certain he could give himself a first-degree burn. He’ll never be able to fall asleep at this rate, completely unable to shake the feeling of Keith’s hand in his and their knees barely touching underneath the table at dinner and the image of Keith smiling at him just before closing his door for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to see him again. Immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His handheld blinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>1:16 AM </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he checks it again. “Quiznak,” he mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s at least a possibility that Keith could still be awake. They’ve both been up later than this in the library </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the observatory, now that he thinks about it. It couldn’t hurt to check, at least… right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance rolls over onto his stomach and squints at his door. Sniffs, because his nose has been running all night and he’s probably on the verge of catching a cold. He could always send a text, that seems like a safe move. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what if he’s changed his mind? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks miserably. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Counterpoint, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his brain interjects. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if he hasn’t? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance hesitates, but he reaches again for his handheld and opens up his messages with Keith, scanning over their last couple of texts. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Keith K: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>do you want to sneak to the observatory with me</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>lancey lance: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>yes pls :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance chews on his bottom lip, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. That was a couple nights ago; they’ve been spending so much time together that they haven’t really had any reason to text. That is, excluding the brief period of time during which Lance would hardly look at him. He mentally kicks himself, and then attempts to write out a message. Multiple times.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>lancey lance: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>hey, u still up?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hey, you awake?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hi! :) u asleep yet? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hey keith, just wanted to let you know that i can’t stop thinking about holding your hand and about how cute you are and how much i want to run my fingers through your hair and take you out on dates and kiss you all the time and also i am in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance immediately deletes the last message and tries not to die. Clearly, texting is not the way to go right now. He glances up at the door again, heart rate immediately kicking up just by doing so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wants to see Keith right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s peeling off three pairs of socks and pausing only to yank the last pair further up his ankles on his way to the door. His hand reaches the doorknob and freezes, fingers curled around it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do it do it do it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his brain insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What happens if he’s asleep? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What happens if he’s not! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Exactly!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance makes a small noise of frustration, grip tightening around the knob. “Just do it, McClain,” he chides himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he takes a deep breath, and opens the door.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. chapter five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For once, the universe actually seems to be looking out for Lance. </p><p><em> It’s very casual, </em> Adam’s text reads. <em> Just lots of food and music. And there’s always dancing in the ballroom. </em></p><p>Dancing, he says. <em> Perfect. </em></p><p>Lance goes straight to Adam’s room after just to clarify exactly what he means by that. Because if he means what Lance <em> thinks </em>he means, he’s not about to let this opportunity pass him by.</p><p>Adam and Shiro are already getting ready when Lance enters the room. At least, Shiro’s getting ready by modeling every single sweater in his wardrobe for Adam, from the looks of the place. </p><p>Shiro brightens when he sees him. “Oh good, Lance is here.” He pokes his head through the collar of a ridiculously neon orange sweater, mussing up his hair. “We need an unbiased opinion.”</p><p>“Objectively, that’s got to be the worst article of clothing I’ve ever seen,” Adam deadpans. “Also, it’s impossible for an opinion to be unbiased. They’re inherently biased, that’s the whole point of an opinion.” </p><p>Shiro pouts and Lance hardly stifles a laugh at seeing his former leader with such a childish expression. “It’s not that bad. Isn’t this what the kids are wearing these days? Lance?” </p><p>“The kids,” Lance echoes, and Adam snorts in agreement. </p><p>“Just—” Shiro shrugs into the rest of the sweater and smooths it out, holding his arms out. “Give me your honest opinion.” </p><p>Lance blinks, glancing over at Adam. He shrugs. Lance clears his throat. “Well. I wouldn’t say it’s the <em> worst </em>article of clothing I’ve ever seen, per say, but…” Shiro raises his eyebrows expectantly, smiling hopefully. Lance sighs. “It’s pretty bad, Shiro.”</p><p>“Ha!” Adam laughs triumphantly as Shiro’s shoulders slump and he yanks the sweater back over his head, tossing it in their direction. “The evil has been defeated.” </p><p>“Keith has no issue with my fashion choices,” Shiro grumbles, rummaging through his drawer for another sweater while Lance sits down beside Adam. “You guys are just mean.” </p><p>Lance scoffs, kicking his legs out over the edge of the bed. “Please, Keith’s fashion choices are just as questionable as yours.” </p><p>Adam turns toward him, scanning him up and down. He squints. “Isn’t that his hoodie you’re wearing?” </p><p>Lance freezes, eyes widening as Shiro pauses in his search to look at him over his shoulder. He wonders, very briefly, if the red color of the hoodie does a better job at disguising or exacerbating the current color of his face. “Alright,” he allows, voice cracking. “Touché. But to be fair, the <em> only </em>reason I’m wearing it is because he was too stubborn to take it back.” </p><p>“Ah,” says Shiro. </p><p>“Hm,” says Adam.</p><p>“Anyway!” Lance coughs into his fist, hunching his shoulders a little. “I was just. Here to ask about the party tonight.” </p><p>Adam leans back on his hands, crossing his legs. “What about it?” </p><p>“Well.” Lance scratches the back of his head. “You mentioned there would be dancing.” </p><p>“I did.” </p><p>“So, just out of curiosity, um…” Lance shifts in place, shrugging casually as he watches Shiro pull a dark purple sweater over his head. “Exactly what kind of dancing is there gonna be?” </p><p>Adam huffs a small laugh from beside him. “What do you mean?” </p><p>“You know!” Lance shrugs again, dropping his gaze to study his feet. “Like—are we talking salsa? Or tango, or hip hop, or…?” He trails off when he looks up to find both Adam and Shiro staring at him again, Adam’s eyebrows raised and the corner of Shiro’s mouth tilted up into a funny smile. “What?” </p><p>“It’s just regular dancing,” Adam answers easily, sliding onto the floor and stepping toward Shiro, who smiles as Adam takes his hand and settles the other on his waist. “You know. <em> Couple-y </em>dancing.” </p><p>“Why’d you have to say it like that,” Lance mutters, although he can’t help but smile as Adam sweeps Shiro into a dance across the floor. </p><p>Shiro laughs, his own free hand finding Adam’s shoulder for balance. “Why, Lance? Are you thinking about asking Allura?” </p><p>Lance laughs nervously, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. <em> Sure, </em> he thinks to himself. <em> Let’s go with that. </em>“Uh, yeah,” he lies, heart fluttering in his chest as Shiro and Adam smile at each other and spin around and laugh some more. He lets himself imagine, only for a split second, what that might be like with Keith. “Maybe.” </p><p>So maybe the universe is making up for all of the opportunities that Lance has let come and go, all because he was too afraid to take them. </p><p>But a huge holiday party? In a mansion? With <em> dancing? </em> How is he not supposed to take that as a sign?<br/><br/><br/></p><p><b>lancey lance &gt; garrison trio</b> <b><br/></b>December 16th, 4:12 PM<br/><br/><b>lancey lance </b> has added <b>Princess </b>to the chat</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b>GUYS</p><p><b>pidge: </b> let me guess <br/>you’re gonna ask keith to dance at the party</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> I’M GONNA ASK KEITH TO DANCE AT THE PARTY <br/>oh yeah exactly <br/>wait how did you know??? <br/>don’t answer that actually</p><p><b>pidge: </b>&gt;:|</p><p><b>Princess: </b>lance!!! that sounds wonderful</p><p><b>Hunk: </b> wait, really? <br/>you’re finally going for it?</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> you could at least pretend you had some faith in me <br/>plus i kind of already did go for it <br/>i mean <br/>… yeah kind of</p><p><b>pidge: </b>okay elaborate</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> let’s just say that ummm <br/>well <br/>hands have been held</p><p><b>Hunk: </b>WHAT</p><p><b>pidge: </b>WHAT</p><p><b>Princess: </b>what???</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> I DON’T HAVE TIME TO RECOUNT THE DETAILS OKAY <br/>i need help</p><p><b>pidge: </b> … with what <br/>you can’t ask keith to dance yourself?</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> not with that!!!! <br/>you guys know how keith hates parties</p><p><b>Princess: </b> i do recall him mentioning that while in space, actually <br/>quite often</p><p><b>Hunk: </b>by quite often, she means every time we had to go to a diplomatic event that even remotely resembled a party</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> exactly <br/>anyway i have a plan</p><p><b>pidge: </b>hm</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> stop casting your judgment upon me!!! you haven’t even heard it yet <br/>literally all you have to do is go off and be your funky little self with hunk</p><p><b>Hunk: </b>i will find All The Food</p><p><b>pidge: </b>… fine, sounds simple enough</p><p><b>Princess: </b>what about me?</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b>same thing only i need you to stick around just a tiny bit longer so it’s not obvious what’s happening</p><p><b>pidge: </b>and what, pray tell, is happening</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> i’m just gonna do my best to keep him away from the crowd, you know? <br/>keep him comfortable</p><p><b>pidge: </b>in other words you desperately want to be alone with him</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> STOP IT <br/>… not that i will mind that at all <br/>but the only reason keith is going is because we’re sort of forcing him to so <br/>i want him to have a good time <br/>PLUS</p><p><b>Hunk: </b> this is such a long plan <br/>but i support you</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> hopefully that way things don’t get too overwhelming or anything <br/>and by the time i ask him to dance he won’t freak <br/>hopefully <br/>i hope</p><p><b>Princess: </b> lance <br/>you’re freaking out</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b>hhghashjdfasdjk</p><p><b>pidge: </b>oh boy</p><p><b>Princess: </b>is that a word?</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b> this is a terrible idea isn’t it <br/>is it too much do you think it’ll scare him off??? <br/>we finally made some progress and now i’m about to totally wreck it</p><p><b>Hunk: </b>lance you’re overthinking!!!</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b>am i tho!!!</p><p><b>pidge: </b>yes</p><p><b>Princess: </b>yes</p><p><b>Hunk: </b>yes</p><p><b>lancey lance: </b>i hate this family</p><p> </p><p><br/>Lance spends the last hour or so before they leave pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed, rehearsing what little of a last-minute speech he’d managed to slap together. Maybe it’s not going all that well. </p><p>“Listen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he starts, muttering under his breath. He stops. “No, too foreboding. Um—hey, I have to tell you something. I think—nonono, that’s not flattering at all. I don’t think, I <em> know. </em> Ugh. Okay.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and shakes out his shoulders, taking a deep breath. “Keith, I love you.” He lets the words hang in the air for maybe three seconds, tops, and then pitches his head forward into his hands with a groan. “That is <em> way </em>too forward.” </p><p>He jumps at the sound of a knock on his door, face flushing involuntarily at the mere thought of getting caught even thinking about Keith. And also professing his love for him, out loud, while he is alone in his room. “Uh—come in!” His shoulders slump in relief when he sees Allura’s head poke through the door. “Oh, Allura. It’s just you.” </p><p>“Don’t be too excited to see me,” she chuckles, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. </p><p>Lance sighs as she walks up to him and picks a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, smoothing out the front of his sweater. “I didn’t mean it like that.” </p><p>“I know,” she smiles, reaching down to take both of his hands and squeezing them, expression softening. “How are you feeling?” </p><p>Lance bites his lip, glancing down at the floor. “I don’t know. Excited, I guess?” He takes a small breath and exhales, laughing a little. “Mostly nervous.” </p><p>Allura hums thoughtfully, gently swinging their hands back and forth. “If you don’t mind my asking… what exactly are you planning to tell him tonight?” </p><p>
  <em> How much are you really going to tell him?  </em>
</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Lance admits quietly, shuffling his feet. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I don’t want to say anything that’ll freak him out.” </p><p>Allura is silent for a moment, and then she releases his hands only to pull him forward into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “I think you’ll know what to say when the time comes,” she murmurs, her hair tickling Lance’s chin. “Just like you always do.” </p><p>“Thanks, ‘Lura,” Lance mumbles, hugging her back just as tightly and praying to whatever intergalactic beings are out there that she’s right. </p><p>。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆</p><p>Lance very purposely does <em> not </em>sit next to Keith in the car on the way to the party.</p><p>He does this strategically, mostly because he doesn’t think he’d be able to keep himself from trying to hold his hand again. Also, he thinks he might pass out from the nerves. Just imagining what he’s going to attempt to do tonight sends his stomach plummeting all the way down to his toes. At least singing along to the <em> High School Musical </em>soundtrack at the top of his lungs with Shiro serves as a nice distraction.</p><p>To be fair, he has it pretty easy. The worst part is that Keith is of course, <em> of course, </em>wearing that navy blue sweater that looks criminally good on him, brings out the color of his eyes. The universe is taunting him. Other than that, he can’t imagine what could go wrong in between now and when he musters up the courage to ask Keith to dance. </p><p>By the time they reach the mansion, Lance is having trouble keeping still. He tumbles out of the car nearly the moment that it stops moving, simply tries to write it off as excitement for the party and smiles at Adam when he shoots him a curious look as he gets out to speak with the valet. Hunk and Pidge follow closely behind, and Lance tries not to stare too obviously as Keith climbs out of the back and offers a hand to help Allura.</p><p>Allura catches him looking. Lance snaps his gaze elsewhere and pretends not to have noticed. She doesn’t let him get away with it, falling into step beside him as they start toward the mansion.</p><p>“Are you alright?” she asks softly, lightly touching his arm. </p><p>Lance glances ahead at where Keith is walking alongside Hunk and Pidge. “Oh, I’m alright. Just second guessing every decision I’ve ever made.” </p><p>Allura laughs, pushing at his shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve made it this far.” </p><p>“I guess so,” Lance allows, tugging anxiously at the hem of his sweater.</p><p>“Trust me, Lance.” He looks over as Allura squeezes his arm encouragingly, mouth turned up into a small smile. “You’ve got this.” </p><p>Lance takes a long, deep breath and then lets it out with a tiny nod. “Yeah, I know.” </p><p>Allura’s smile grows and then she nudges him forward, gently but firmly. “Now go get him.” </p><p>“Easy, Princess,” Lance teases, but he’s already using the momentum to propel himself forward, returning one last smile at her over his shoulder before jogging ahead to catch up with Keith. </p><p>And if his heart skips a couple beats when Keith immediately slows to match his pace and smiles as if he’d been waiting for Lance all along, that’s no one else’s business but his.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. chapter six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this part pretty explicitly addresses lance's death, just in case anyone needs to avoid that!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lance is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire day has been like one long train wreck, only less of the actual wreck and more of the fire that comes after it, the same one that should’ve started a long time ago but never had the chance to. He’s been on high alert ever since this morning, as if he keeps expecting more flames to crop up the second he lets himself relax. To be fair, that’s exactly what happens, so at least he’s not just paranoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been hard to be apart from Keith today, even if only for a minute or so. Call him overprotective, but part of him wants to latch onto Keith’s arm and never let him out of his sight. That’s kind of what he’s doing now, arm draped across Keith’s back and chin tucked against his shoulder as they sit together in their little nook of the library and flip through a book about stars. They both know it’s just a distraction from everything else that’s going on, but neither of them say anything about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until Shiro appears at the room’s entrance, looking tired and exhausted and everything that Lance has been over the course of the day. He feels Keith tense slightly beside him as Shiro leans against the doorframe, and he slides his hand up to rest on his shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Keith and Shiro haven’t spoken all day, both of them seeming to dance around the conversation that inevitably needs to be had. Lance can’t exactly blame them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he speaks eventually, after the silence has stretched on for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro looks at him, blinking slowly. “Hey,” he answers. He pauses for a moment, gaze flicking over to Keith. Waiting. Lance doesn’t let go of his shoulder. When Shiro finally looks back at him, his own shoulders sink slightly in what Lance imagines is disappointment. “Want to talk?” he asks softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s heart plummets. He glances sideways at Keith, whose eyes are focused stubbornly on the ground, then back at Shiro. Shiro doesn’t push, doesn’t press. Just waits patiently until Lance is able to speak again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows, doing what he can to beat back the frantic protesting of his own mind as he answers. “Yeah,” he decides, and squeezes Keith’s shoulder one more time before standing and letting his hand slip away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro hesitates by the door for a moment longer even after Lance has passed by, probably to look again at Keith. He wonders if Keith looks back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They seem to come to a silent agreement to go downstairs, pulling their coats on and stepping outside onto the porch even though it’s frigid. Lance supposes neither of them are particularly eager to give anyone the chance to eavesdrop. Not that anyone would want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance comes to a stop in the middle of the deck as Shiro is pulling the door closed behind them and exhales a deep breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. He watches a small cloud form in the air, hovering in front of him for a split second before it disappears just as quickly; ironically, kind of like his confidence in his ability to so much as breach the topic of the conversation they’re about to have, which is quickly dissipating and instead giving way to an awful, sickening sense of anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro, I—” Lance turns, eyes lowered to the ground as he shuffles his feet. He struggles to take a proper breath, vaguely aware of Shiro crossing the porch to join him. “I don’t know if I can—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Shiro takes him by the shoulders and abruptly tugs him forward against his chest, before Lance can finish his thought. Lance freezes, eyes wide as he blinks into Shiro’s coat and tries to process the sudden change in scenery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Shiro murmurs, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and trapping him there. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. And I’m sorry—” He exhales a breath, sounding uncharacteristically harsh and full of frustration. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Lance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance swallows down the lump in his throat only for it to instantly reappear, trying desperately to blink back the heat building behind his eyes. His chest aches. “It—wasn’t your fault,” he says hoarsely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shakes his head before Lance has even finished speaking, evidently already in disagreement. “You didn’t deserve to have that happen to you,” he answers quietly. Lance bites down on his bottom lip and squeezes his burning eyes shut, one tear managing to escape and slide down his cheek. It’s as if Shiro can still see him despite holding him flush against his chest, because his arms tighten around him but he’s kind enough not to mention the trembling of Lance’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” he breathes, even as a single, choked sob slips from Lance’s mouth. “Let it out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he does. Lance’s fingers momentarily scrabble for purchase and find it in the back of Shiro’s coat, clinging there as tightly as he dares while finally allowing himself to lean into Shiro’s embrace. He stops trying to hold back his tears and instead lets them fall, doesn’t even feel guilty for where they stain the front of Shiro’s coat because he’s made it undeniably clear that he doesn’t mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s kind of nice not having to apologize for his feelings for once, to have someone who genuinely wants to talk about them rather than dismiss them. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about them, if he weren’t currently busy sobbing into Shiro’s chest. It’s like one never-ending, pent-up tidal wave of emotion comes crashing down on him all at once, surging through his chest and spilling out through each tear, each exhale of air as he buries his face in Shiro’s coat and cries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro never once tries to stop him. “Breathe, Lance,” is all he ever says, when Lance has begun to cry so hard that he can’t quite catch his breath in between each shuddering sob. “You’re okay, just breathe.” Lance tries, clutching so tightly at the back of Shiro’s coat that he’s sure he’ll ruin it somehow. His chest heaves with exertion until it aches, feeling void and hollow the way it does after finally being emptied of something that’s built up so much pressure over time it threatens to burst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it has, and Lance distinctly remembers thinking that if there was anyone he trusts enough to come undone like this in front of them, it’s Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro, who untangles himself from Lance to hold him at arm’s length long enough to look at him and say: “You’re not a burden, Lance. I need to know that you know that. Are you listening to me?” Lance only manages to nod, sniffing and reaching up to scrub at his tear-streaked face as he tries to regain any semblance of himself. Shiro’s grip on his shoulders only tightens, not enough to be painful but enough that Lance has to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how you got that sort of idea into your head,” Shiro goes on, brow furrowed when Lance looks up to meet his gaze. “But I don’t want to hear any more talk like that as long as I’m around. You understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance swallows, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he answers weakly, and doesn’t protest when Shiro draws him back in against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while he tries to focus on his breathing, letting himself relax against Shiro’s hold. He feels a little selfish for taking up so much of Shiro’s time, especially when he has Adam to be taking care of, but he knows that Shiro will give him as much time as he needs. He’s always been that way, patient and considerate in a way Lance has never seen of anyone else, even when it’s less than convenient. Lance wonders if Shiro ever lets anyone do the same for him, if he ever gives himself a break and thinks about his own needs for once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my fault.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blinks, unsure for a moment if he only imagined the sound of Shiro’s voice. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sighs heavily, arms loosening slightly around Lance’s shoulders. “It’s my fault,” he repeats firmly, as if that somehow makes it make more sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait—” Lance squirms and pushes himself away from Shiro, who suddenly seems to be avoiding all eye contact. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Are we still talking about the same thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It only happened because of me,” Shiro insists, glaring somewhere off to the side as Lance stares incredulously up at him, completely lost on what Shiro’s going on about. He sighs again, shaking his head at the ground. “You said that the blast happened after the power shorted out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance frowns, resisting the urge to fold in on himself. “I did,” he agrees cautiously. His eyes flick down to where Shiro’s prosthetic hand flexes at his side, like he’s reliving a memory. The two of them fall into silence for a moment, the usual still quality of the air only emphasized by it and the muffled atmosphere that snow always seems to provide. Shiro doesn’t wait very long to break it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pidge was using my arm to jumpstart the power again,” he explains, gaze flitting along his arm before snapping away just as quickly. “And I must’ve—I don’t know, Haggar got into my head, and after that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It finally clicks, exactly what Shiro is trying to insinuate, and Lance’s eyes widen. “Whoawhoawhoa,” he interrupts immediately, crossing his hands in a time-out gesture. “No way, Shiro. For starters, that wasn’t even you, technically, plus—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it was!” Shiro argues, frustratedly tugging his fingers through his hair. “I let go of the energy console and Pidge had to drag me back, that’s why the power shorted out and that’s why you—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Lance blurts desperately, heart rate suddenly skyrocketing out of his chest in a panic. “You’re not—that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shiro, it wasn’t you.” Shiro opens his mouth, presumably to argue again, but Lance shuts him down before he has the chance. “What are you even trying to say? Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>me to blame you or something? Because that’s not gonna happen, so you might as well stop now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro frowns. “This conversation isn’t supposed to be about me, Lance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe it should be,” Lance fires back. And then he freezes, blinking at himself. Shiro blinks back, eyebrows lifted in surprise, and for a moment they only stare at each other before Lance drops his gaze with a quiet huff, waving a hand in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just—you’re always trying to take responsibility for things that are completely out of your control,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and kicking at a clump of snow that somehow snuck its way onto the porch. “Keith got that from you, you know.” He chews on his lip, mouth twisting down into a frown, and then he huffs again and turns to step over to the porch railing and lean against it, arms folded across the top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is hidden behind the clouds today, as if the sky knows about the absolute and utter chaos taking place within the cabin. The snow is still bright as ever though, too much of it for the shine to really be dampened without any direct sunlight. Lance wonders if there’s some kind of metaphor to be found somewhere in there, like he’s found in so many other places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps looking ahead when he hears Shiro’s footsteps and feels him settle beside him against the railing, mimicking his posture but leaving a respectable amount of distance between them. Shiro is quiet, drumming his fingers against the banister and following Lance’s gaze out into the snow. He lets it settle completely before breaking it again, speaking softly but clearly enough that Lance can hear.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never minded being a leader,” he says eventually, fingers stilling when Lance peeks over at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s the part I was always comfortable with. But I wasn’t ever worried about it really, I just—wanted to be someone that you all trusted.” His brow furrows slightly, eyes glazing over a little in that way it does when you look somewhere that’s far away, somewhere that’s not even there at all. “After today… it feels like I failed pretty miserably on that account.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not true, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lance thinks instantly, and would have said aloud if he weren’t openly staring at Shiro now. Because it occurs to him that he’s never really had a conversation with Shiro where he’s opened up and been willingly vulnerable like this. He’s never seen this side of him, the side that’s a little uncertain and a little afraid, the side that’s not typically allowed to be seen of a leader. Not to mention that he’s talking to Lance like he’s an equal rather than some kind of inferior—like a friend. Which means, Lance realizes with a pleasing feeling of warmth blooming in his chest, that Shiro trusts him, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns back toward the yard, momentarily mulling over his words and shoving down the nervous pattering of his heart. “I’ve always looked up to you,” he admits quietly, scratching idly at his bare wrist peeking out from his coat sleeve. “You were my hero back when I was at the Garrison, and—I mean, you still are. They always tell you not to meet your heroes, but you’re a pretty special case, I think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro chuckles at that and Lance turns to look at him, mouth turning up into a small smile. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” He seems to consider it all for a second longer and then looks back at Lance, eyes warm and smiling. “Thanks, Lance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance ducks his head a little, suddenly a bit overwhelmed by all the attention. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro hesitates, then shifts so that only one arm is propped against the railing, body turned toward Lance. “Listen, I didn’t make you come out here to talk about anything that you’re not comfortable talking about.” Lance’s eyelids flutter slightly even at the simple implication of his statement, but he keeps his mouth closed as Shiro continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not really something you can dive into out of the blue. But whenever you do want to talk about it, even if it’s months after this trip, I’m all ears.” Lance obligingly glances over at him when Shiro reaches out to gently touch his shoulder. “I mean it. I don’t care when it is, it can be the middle of the day, or the middle of the night, just—I’m here for you, always. Got it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance wonders if he’ll ever actually take him up on that offer. Something tells him that he will. He smiles, answering him with one small, acknowledging nod. “I got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s dark eyes search his face for a moment longer, and then they seem to settle, softening in a way that reminds Lance very much of his own mother’s, in an odd but entirely fitting way. “I’m really proud of you, Lance. Always have been.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s eyes widen slightly, chest clenching tightly as Shiro squeezes his shoulder, his smile widening. Then he looks away, blinking rapidly as his vision slowly begins to blur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s grip loosens. “...Are you crying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance sniffs, quickly swiping at the tear that’s spilled down his cheek. “No,” he lies, voice cracking. He hardly has time to wipe at the second one before Shiro is pulling him away from the banister, laughing as he wraps his arms back around him. “God, I think I’m getting dehydrated,” Lance mutters into Shiro’s chest, unable to help himself from smiling a little when Shiro laughs again, the sound of which echoes out across the yard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should probably go back inside, anyway,” Shiro allows, releasing his hold on Lance and guiding him toward the front door with a hand on his back. “Adam would kill me if he found out I let you get frostbite.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance snorts, twisting the handle and swinging the door open for the both of them. “Assuming he doesn’t already kill you since finding out about—you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One step at a time, Lance,” Shiro sighs, and Lance allows himself to laugh just one more time as he’s pushed through, Shiro following close behind. “One step at a time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They part ways after that. Lance’s steps back up the stairs to the second floor after they part are slow and heavy, as if they’re the outward embodiment of everything he doesn’t quite have the words to describe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t taken the time to check his reflection in the mirror, but he already knows exactly what he would see if he did, so really, what’s the point? His eyes are so puffy from crying at this point that he briefly contemplates going straight to his room and crashing for an hour or two—at least a nap would serve as a nice distraction from all that’s happened today. But despite everything, that wouldn’t be fair, not when there’s still so much else to deal with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith, is his first thought when he reaches the second floor. They’d been in the library when Shiro came to speak with him, and he has a feeling that he’s still there now. So that’s exactly where he goes, hurrying down the hallway with a newfound sense of urgency as he wipes away the last traces of his earlier tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Keith’s voice as he nears the library is so relieving that he nearly forgets to stop and wonder exactly who he’s talking to. He forces himself to slow down as he draws closer, shuffling forward and quietly pressing his fingertips against the door. It creaks open slightly, just enough for Lance to peek inside, but not loud enough for Keith to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Yeah, I—no, I haven’t talked to him yet.” Lance hesitantly pokes his head into the room to see Keith pacing back and forth across the floor, back turned and handheld pressed against his ear. He lifts a hand to tug restlessly at a strand of hair as he listens to the person on the other end, inhaling a shuddering breath. “I will, I just… okay. I’ll try.” He stops pacing, and Lance’s heart clenches in his chest as Keith sniffs, pulling the sleeve of his sweater over his hand to wipe at his face. “Yeah, I know. I love you too, Mom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance decides then, that now would be a good time to stop eavesdropping. He pushes the door open fully and steps inside, clearing his throat to draw Keith’s attention. Keith jumps, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Lance over his shoulder before looking away just as quickly. “I-I gotta go. Yeah, okay. Bye, Mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ends the call and slips his handheld into his pocket, and Lance watches quietly as he finishes scrubbing at his face, gaze still downcast when he finally turns toward him. They’re silent for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to say, until Lance takes a tentative step forward and Keith meets him halfway, arms winding tightly around his shoulders and face burrowing against his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance exhales a breath of relief, eyes falling shut as he wraps his arms around Keith’s back. He slides one hand up between his shoulder blades, rubbing a gentle, soothing circle against his skin with his thumb. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is quiet for a while, face hidden where it’s pressed into Lance’s neck. Lance doesn’t dare pressure him to answer, simply waits for Keith to gather himself and trusting him to speak when he’s ready. “I will be,” he says eventually, voice muffled. A short pause, and then: “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same here,” Lance admits, gaze drifting across the room to look through the window at the falling snow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation ends there. Not because they don’t know what else to say, but because there’s nothing left to say—not through words at least. Rather, they stand there until Lance is certain he could fall asleep and wake up only to find Keith still holding him upright, because he wants to and because he knows Lance would do the same for him. It’s another way of letting each other in; slowly, quietly and without resistance, willingly offering the other the most vulnerable parts of themselves. They’ll look back on this one day and remember why it was so important, why it brought them so much closer even through so much pain. But for now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One step at a time.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come say hi on <a href="https://www.thespacenico.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>!<br/><a href="https://www.instagram.com/thespacenico/">instagram</a>!<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/thespacenico">twitter</a>!<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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